


I Can't Get Enough (You Gotta Love It)

by eruditeprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruditeprincess/pseuds/eruditeprincess
Summary: Created for kvtefullers on Tumblr as part of the Bellarke Secret Santa gift exchange.Clarke's flight home gets cancelled and she has to spend Christmas with her roommate, who just happens to be her longtime crush. Lots of things happen.Repost of my original work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note: I did post this before, but it didn't post properly and so I'm reposting it. The original version has been deleted.
> 
> Title taken from Ruelle's Gotta Love It.
> 
> This was written as part of the Bellarke Secret Santa exchange for kvtefullers on tumblr.
> 
> To those wondering, I got an offer from my top choice university! The next few months are going to be working hard for my exams, so just be aware that my already sporadic posting will be worse during that period. Doesn't mean I'll stop writing though.
> 
> As usual, the tumblr for me is erudite-princess, and I hope you enjoy this!

“My flight got cancelled,” she flatly intoned as she slammed the door behind her, sending a flurry of snow flying across their front mat.

“Hello to you too. I’d ask how your day was, but I’m more scared of you ripping me apart than anything else.”

“Bellamy…” she groaned as she flopped down on the couch, dropping her duffle bag and toeing off her boots, letting the damp soles of them slosh onto the floor, splashing slush across the sleek dark wood. He put his arm up and she nestled under it, the cold of her hands seeping through his t-shirt to his ribcage. Her head fit into the crook between his shoulder and neck, and her hair tickled his collarbone, the golden curls wildly splayed over his chest.

“We can celebrate Christmas together, yeah?”  
“But my mom had big news she wanted to tell me this year and now I have to tell her I can’t make it, so we have to wait until one of our birthdays, and it’ll be a nightmare and-“

“We’ll sort it out. Abby won’t mind about it; she can see the snow too, right?”

“Yeah, but this is our first Christmas together in years! We need this right now!”

“Clarke – listen to me,” he pulled back so he could see her properly, and she tried to chase his warmth, making a tiny moan when she fell onto his stomach, “your mom can hold up this family reunion for some snow. It’s important that you’ve been making amends to your relationship in the first place, yeah?”

“I guess,” she murmured, her words muffled in his stomach, and he let her slide back up and under his outstretched arm. He pulled the blanket slung over the back of the couch down and covered both of them with it, pulling Clarke closer to him and letting the dim light of Clarke’s phone and the tiny _ping_ noises emitting from something in the house (his phone, her phone? Who knew?) distract him from the fact that his crush was _laying on top of him and her lips were near his collarbone and God she smelled good_ and frankly, this wasn’t what he expected when she moved in with him. He let his tiny distractions lull him off to sleep, despite the screaming alarm bells in his mind informing him of Clarke’s proximity to him.

 

When she woke up, his arm had curled around her and she felt this soft contentment, before her mind began screaming that _this is Bellamy, this is the guy you have a crush on_ and she had to move carefully, as to not disturb him. She tiptoed across the floor, checking the time on her phone and attempted to open her bedroom door without it creaking; however, luck was not on her side, and she held her breath as she heard Bellamy stir.

“Wha’ time is it?” he questioned and _holy shit his just-woke-up voice should not be that sexy_.

“Three in the morning,” she responded as he sat up, rolling his shoulders, “You shouldn’t’ve fallen asleep on the couch. We both know it cramps up your muscles.”

“Didn’t you switch from pre-Med to Art halfway through last year?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I don’t remember what I learnt,” he let out a soft chuckle as she spoke, and she glared at him.

“Sure, princess. Whatever you say. G’night,” he got up and began to walk over to his room, clutching the blanket they’d had over themselves.

“G’night, Bell,” she responded quietly, yawning.

 

She woke up once more to the smell of coffee and the sound of crashing coming from the kitchen, with a few _fuck_ exclamations thrown in for good measure. She slowly opened her door to see Bellamy standing, shirtless, in the centre of their kitchen, clutching a steaming mug.

“Shit, did I wake you?” his eyes were almost comically wide, and she giggled.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I needed to get up soon anyway. I was going to see if I could decorate my room for Christmas. Find some fairy lights or something.”

“I was just going to wrap O’s gifts and drop them round to her, see how little Augusta is doing. I won’t be out for too long, promise.”

“Just be careful on the roads.”  
“Always am, princess,” he passed her a mug and she accepted it, gratefully wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic. She took a sip and found that it had just the right amount of sweetener in it.

“Send my regards to Octavia and Lincoln. Aren’t they visiting his family tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Christmas day and Boxing day with Lincoln’s family this year, after they spent last year with me.”

“At least you’re going to see them,” he began to walk away, but she called out, “Hey, Bellamy!”

“Yeah?” his eyes locked with hers for a moment, and she grinned.

“Go put a shirt on. You’ll catch your death of cold.”

 

She found a cluster of fairy lights in a box in one of their storage cupboards, and spent all afternoon stretching up and pinning them in _exactly_ the right spot, so they lit up her bedroom beautifully, casting a soft glow over her bed and desk, bathing her laptop in golden light.

“I’m back!” Bellamy shouted, his voice carrying through the house. Clarke’s door creaked as it opened, and her head popped out, her flaxen curls pinned up in a haphazard bun atop her head and secured with a flower hairpin.

“You’re back!” her voice sounded slightly strained, and he slowly walked over to where she was.

“Are you alright?” he questioned softly, and she shook her head.

“My mom’s getting remarried. She wants me to be her maid of honour.”

“Is that good, or not?”

“She’s getting remarried to… to-“ she emitted a soft hiccup as her eyes welled up, “Marcus Kane.”

“Your dad’s best friend?”

“Yeah. His best friend.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy she’s moving on?” he held out his arms and she gratefully burrowed into them.

“I am, it’s just I didn’t think it would happen now. I knew it might happen one day, and I know dad would be happy for her, but it still feels weird,” tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and he carefully wiped them away, his callused fingertips brushing lightly against her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and he cupped her cheek.

“I know it feels weird, but it’ll be fine. Are they happy? That’s the important part.”  
“Yeah. I mean, when she introduced him, I almost didn’t recognise him. He’s grown a beard!”

“Yeah?” she giggled and he smiled, their eyes catching.

“Yeah,” her voice was quieter as the laughter died down, her eyes capturing his. They left for a brief moment to glance above her, and he followed her gaze, finding a small green plant with white berries above them.

“Mistletoe,” he breathed, and she blushed prettily.

“Well, I may have put it there. And it’d be a shame to break tradition, y’know?”

“Might bring us bad luck,” he smiled down at her, and a warm feeling burst into life in his chest just as she leaned up, tiptoeing to reach his height, and their lips connected.

 

The spark exploded into a flurry of fireworks, enhancing his senses. Suddenly, he was startlingly aware of all the sensations he was feeling; the warm press of her hands on his waist, sending a _zing_  of energy running through him, only fuelling the fire within him. Her lips were slightly chapped, but he didn’t care as he sucked on one, revelling in the sense. One of her hands travelled up to his hair as the kiss grew deeper, their hands exploring each other’s bodies and sending fiery-hot trails running up and down their nerves, with the constant presence of the tiny voices in the back of their minds, screeching _holy shit holy fuck oh my god shit crap fuck_.

 

When they finally broke apart, she noticed that his lips were red and swollen ( _because of you_ , her mind reminded her, and she smiled a little at that) and his pupils blown, the deep black enveloping the coffee coloured iris.

“This is not gonna be a one-time thing, right? ‘Cause I don’t think I could keep this as a one-timer,” his breath fanned across her lips as he spoke, and she moved a hand up to his hair, tangling her ivory fingers into the dark curls.

“Well, I hope not. I’d kinda like to do this again,” she gave a small coquettish smile, and moved her other hand to under his shirt, soft fingertips running along hard ridges of muscle. He kissed her again, pulling her closer to him so their bodies were aligned. Her hand ran greedily up his chest and back, whilst the other twisted and tangled his hair. His hands played at the edges of her shirt, the material soft in his hands. She pulled away from him, and he chased her lips, but she pulled back and smiled as she took off her shirt, revealing her bra-clad breasts. He emitted a tiny growl at the sight, and she took his hand, leading him into her bedroom.

 

As he walked into her bedroom, he noticed how the glow of the light bounced off of her pale form, and how, when she hopped onto her bed and reclined against the pillows, it seemed as if she was the one emitting the soft luminosity, instead of the lights above her.

“This is like the one thing I’ve thought of with you since you’ve moved in,” he groaned.

“Well, hotshot, maybe you should’ve made a move a little faster, but I suppose now is a good time,” she pulled on his shirt and he collapsed on top of her, his legs bracketing hers and her quickly divesting him of his shirt, before pulling him into a bruising kiss. Clothes were shed in-between feverish kisses, and Bellamy found himself pulling back as her tiny hands were rolling a condom onto him.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course,” she responded, adjusting her position so it was easier for him to go in. She moaned as he slowly pushed into her, and he pressed tiny butterfly kisses along her shoulder as he kept pushing into her, stretching her inner muscles. As he pulled out, she emitted a long, low moan. He sped up, and soon the only sounds heard in her room was the slick smacking of skin as it connected and broke apart once more, along with their moans, hers high-pitched and keening, his low and slow, dispersed with the occasional _fuck, you’re fucking stunning_ or _oh my god this is just-_.

She knew when he came, as he let out a longer moan and captured her mouth, swallowing her moan as he rode her into oblivion. When she stopped seeing stars flashing across her vision, she revelled in the tiny aftershocks of pleasure running up and down her spine, fuelled further by his kisses. She rolled them over so she was straddling him, and watched the flash in his eyes at the prospect of what was to come.

 

Needless to say, she didn’t move for her bed that day.

 

The entirety of their Christmas continued in much the same manner; they slept together, had sex, ate, had sex, opened presents, and had sex. He sucked a long line of deep blue and purple bruises along her collarbone and shoulders (calling her mom to wish her a merry Christmas was awkward, only intensified by him having his head between her legs throughout.)

“What are we?” she questioned on Boxing Day, and he looked up at her from his position, kissing along her thighs.

“It’s us. Bellamy and Clarke. We don’t need to define it,” he hummed, placing his mouth back on the oh-so-sensitive skin along her inner thigh, and she let the sensations wash back over her.

 

Best Christmas ever, she reckoned.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos or comments if you enjoy this!


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